Devastation
by e-p-unum
Summary: semi AU. Alan runs into some trouble when he skips campus with some friends. WIP Chapter 4 now up. This is not in the same universe. It's just weirdly alike because I have no imagination.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer. I don't own T-bird's. Don't we all wish we did? This is movie verse but AU. I wanted to write a fic about a real life problem and see how the Tracy family reacted to it. Hope it's OK.

John Tracy was monitoring his family's progress in a rescue when he saw an 'incoming call' on his father's personal line. John checked the call peripherally and saw that it had originated from the United States, from Massachusetts to be precise. He checked the chronometer on his display board and noticed that it was just shortly after midnight on the east coast. Curious, John rerouted the satellite call to his headset.

"Tracy residence, this is John Tracy speaking."

"Ah, Mr. Tracy?" The voice on the other end sounded high and winded. "This is Headmaster Barrington, from Wharton's Academy. Is Mr. Jeff Tracy available?"

John glanced at the Thunderbird activity readouts on his monitor. Dad was definitely busy. "I'm afraid he's unavailable right now, Headmaster. However, I believe the school has me listed as an alternate contact. If there is some way I can help you?" John let his voice trail off.

"Yes, yes jus let me verify this." There were some clicking noises in the background. "You said you were John Tracy, correct?" He asked.

"Yes sir."

"I'm afraid that there is a situation involving your brother, Alan. I need someone to authorize St. Catherine's Hospital for his care." The man sounded a bit put out.

John felt his heart leap within his chest. The Headmaster and the schools medical team had a limited authority to authorize treatment for Alan in case of an emergency. John couldn't imagine anything that might be on the excluded permission list. "Is Alan alright? What's happened?"

"Oh dear," The man instantly became contrite. "Yes, yes he will be fine Mr. Tracy. Alan and several other boys decided to leave campus after hours tonight and snuck out to a popular dance club in town. We've had several such occurrences by many of the young men here since the club opened. Normally, I would leave this call until morning but there was an unusual event tonight. According to the proprietor several of the boys had their soda's 'spiked' while visiting the club. Apparently what ever drug it was caused the boys to behave rather irrationally. The police were called to expel them from the club. They noticed several of the boys were behaving quite abnormally when they arrived to take them into custody and return them to the school. They were then taken to St. Catherine's instead because of their exhibited behavior. The doctor's feel testing is needed to identify the drug and ascertain the boys' conditions."

"Alan was drugged at a bar?" John was astounded. Dad was going to flip.

"A club Mr. Tracy, some sort of Dance/Karaoke sort of establishment. No alcohol is served there. Can you approve the testing?"

'Well that's something.' John thought to himself. "Can you send me the link for the form please?" John was quite for a moment as he received the link and watched the e-form load. "Is Alan really OK? Do the doctors have an idea about the effects of this drug? Is it illegal? Is it a narcotic?"

"I'm afraid I don't know Mr. Tracy. That is in part what the tests are for. I'm sure we will have more information soon. According to the police the boys all seem to be in high spirits. No violent or disruptive behavior aside from the boisterousness that prompted their expulsion from the club."

"None yet." John muttered as he saved his e-signature. The Headmaster heard him.

"We'll hope for the best. The boys seem to be behaving as if they have no inhibitions. One was caught trying to go starkers. He was a rather rude and vulgar when he was stopped. It seems the drug acts as a kind of truth serum and mood enhancer."

"The form is done. Are the other parents also being notified? Alan's not going to get expelled for this, is he? What about Fermat, was he with him?"

"No, no Mr. Tracy, as I said before, several young men have broken curfew and left campus to visit this club. We've tried tightening security over the past few weeks but have been hampered by the boys' own intuitiveness. No, no I dare say this experience will keep them and any others in from now on. Of course, they will be punished. A week's detention has been the standard deterrent until now. Perhaps some extra class work though, for the police trouble, but no expulsions. Mr. Heckenbecker is still asleep in his dorm room. "

John breathed out a sigh. That was good news. "I imagine that my father and brother will most likely be visiting you soon. You said Alan was at St. Catherine's? I'll call them to get an update. Things can still go downhill pretty fast, if the doctors haven't identified the drugs yet. Did you have any more information, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid not. I can send you the names and numbers of some lodgings in the area if you like?"

"I already have some, thank you. I'll let you go now so I can call the hospital."

"Very good Mr. Tracy. If you need me for anything please don't hesitate to call." The line went dead as John checked the progress of the rescue. It looked like his family was starting to wrap things up. John thought for a moment and then called the hospital.

"St. Catherine's Hospital, how may I direct your call?" a pleasant sleepy sounding voice answered the phone.

"Hello. I'd like to check the status on a patient that was recently admitted there. He's my little brother and I just completed the online 'consent to care' form for him." John knew he sounded anxious.

"Yes Sir, He's one of the kid's from Wharton's? Do you have his name?"

"Yes, from Wharton's. You're going to be getting these calls all night aren't you?" He nearly smiled in commiseration. "His name is Alan Tracy, he's fifteen years old." There were several clicks in the background and then the voice returned.

"Can I have your name, Sir? And the first line of the patients listed home address?" The voice sounded doubtful. Well, a one home island address did read a little oddly on forms. John verified his identity. "That is a new one." There was a smile in the vice now. "Alan has been admitted and placed on continuous surveillance for the next 72 hours."

"Three days? What did he take!"

"I'm afraid that is not listed, sir. Let me see if I can find a doctor to give you more information."

John pleaded. "Please"

The line beeped and a retro 20's tune started piping in the headset. John checked on his family again. Virgil was page lighting him to see if he was available. John sent him back a wait/online signal. A green cursor blipped across his screen from his father's station in thunderbird 2.

EVERYTHING OK UP THERE JOHN?

John frowned and debated his reply.

THERE IS A PROBLEM AT WHARTONS. I'M GETTING MORE INFO NOW.

Immediately after the reply was sent came:

WHAT? IS ALAN OK? REPORT.

A dry, no-nonsense voice came on the line. "Mr. Tracy? This is Dr. Pahwan. How can I help you?"

John typed and spoke at the same time. "Dr. Pahwan, thank you for taking my call. I was hoping to get some information about my brother?"

ON THE PHONE NOW, I WILL CALL YOU ASAP.

He hit 'send' and listened to the doctor's voice as it described the situation to him. The drug had some pretty nasty effect when the user started to 'come down' from their 'high.' It was a new designer drug that had been causing problems on several college campuses in the New England area. It had been bred in some chemist's lab as a possible placebo drug for users in rehab clinics. Some drug lord had got a hold of it and started manufacturing for general use. The drug didn't have the same narcotic affects as current illegal drugs did. It just caused the users to be extremely truthful and stimulated a false "high." However, the 'high' also had a pretty devastating 'low' that came with it, there were several reports of long lasting major depressive episodes caused by the retardation of the brains secretions of serotonin in the spinal cord and brain. Recently, several college and teen suicides had been attributed to the drug known as Devastation.

Alan appeared to be having an extreme reaction to the drug. The doctor's were concerned about possible violent mood swings and an extended depressive state. Alan was going to need a lot of time to get the drug and its affects out of his system. The doctors were hopeful that it wouldn't cause any permanent damage to his neurotransmitters. The immediate concern was the stress his current high was causing his heart.

John asked a few more questions and requested 24/7 visitation be allowed for his family. Alan was being transferred to an adolescent ICU. Dr. Pahwan warned that he may need to be placed in restraints as the drug worked its way through his system. He urged John and his family to visit soon. He stated that family concern often had a positive effect on the severely depressed.

Severely depressed, suicide, John read between the lines. He thanked the doctor again and took a deep breath before punching the open comm. button.

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 2."

Jeff Tracy felt a sinking sensation. John was behaving entirely too formally. "What's going on John? How's Alan?" Virgil and Gordon were watching him with wide eyes. The open communication line to Thunderbird one crackled with intermittent static.

"You may want to go to a private line, Dad." John cautioned. Gordon's visage immediately became betrayed and shone with panic.

"Oh God, he's not-"Jeff asked without thinking.

"No!" John called into his microphone loudly. "No, not that Dad. He's not doing to well though."

"Tell us all," Jeff decided. "We've waited long enough."

"Yeah." Scott's voice, tiny over the speaker, was heard to agree.

"There's been a…" John groped for a word, "an incident, in Massachusetts. Alan and several other students skipped campus to go to a local dance club." Jeff's mouth tightened and became a straight line. Gordon looked faintly amused. There was a muffled grumbling on the T1 speaker.

"Some of the kids' sodas' were spiked with a new designer drug, Devastation. They're in the hospital." John knew he was leaving out details but those would come later. "At first it acts like some kind of super 'upper'. It's loud, happy, excited kids. Then, it's a 'truth drug.' The kids get talkative and introspective."

"The thunderbirds." Virgil breathed in dismay. Gordon wasn't smiling now and there were tiny curses coming from the speaker.

A grim Jeff announced. "That's enough. What else, John?"

It can literally kill part of the brain if the user takes too much or experiences an adverse affect to the drug. It inhibits the creation of certain molecular neurotransmitters. That causes severe depression, seizures, paralysis, suicidal tendencies, and in some cases death."

Jeff's knuckles had turned white where he was gripping the steering column. "Alan?"

"He's flying pretty high right now, really manic behavior. The doctor says the drug affects may be worse for him because he has 2 – 3 times the normal dosage in his system. He's being monitored continuously in the AICU. One of the staff psychiatric counselors is in the room with him at all times. They think he may need to be put in restraints when the drug starts to settle into its 'low' phase. The docs," John paused and Jeff's mind cried into silence. "The docs are worried about his heart. They're trying to keep his activity to minimum. His blood pressure is still pretty high and they're worried about a possible seizure or stroke." John's voice broke on the last word and he took a shuddering breath. "I'm making an open ended hotel reservation for you now, Dad. Do you want me to call Dr. Mikel too?" Dr. Mikel was the family physician.

Jeff paused for a moment taking everything in. "No, I want Brains to come to come with me instead. Is Fermat alright?"

"He's still asleep in his dorm. I doubt he knows that anything has even happened yet."

"Thank goodness." Virgil replied thinking of the shy bright boy.

"We need to let Brains know what's going on. I'll call ahead and let him know."

"I – I – I- I'm here on the line too, Mr. Tracy." Brains's voice entered the conversation.

"Brains, good, you heard that Fermat was safe?"

"Ye – yes, Mr. Tracy. Your ETA is f- f- forty-two minutes. I'm fueling the j-j-j plane now. We should be able to reach Ma- ma-ma the boys by 0530 with the new boosters. "

"Excellent." Jeff gently coaxed the massive thunderbird into going a little faster.

"J-J-John, do you know anymore about the drug?"

"The street name for it is Devastation. It's not very widely known because it doesn't seem to be a narcotic. The ATF wants it off the streets though. It's being billed to users as a 'safe drug', all of the effects of a narcotic but none of the nasty addiction. I'm going to try to get the chemical composition and test results for you from the ATF database."

"I've heard of it, I think. This is the drug that was pur-pur-purpo said to be cause of all those sui-sui- deaths on those college campuses?

"That's right! The continual users have a high rate of suicide deaths. There was a report on it in the 'Post. It didn't make CNN though, still too minor a story. Are you getting what you need from this download Brains?"

"I think so; brain chemistry is still very much a m – m – mystery of sorts to modern day medicine." There was a pause from Brains as he sifted through the data. "I'm going to get started on a-all of this Mr. Tracy. Call me in the lab if you need anything." He signed off the open line.

John volunteered, "I have access to a web-cam that is being used to monitor Alan, Dad. The hospital set it up for me so I could keep an eye on him." He made a minute adjustment to the video feed. "He's sitting down right now, but he seems really anxious. The counselor they put with him seems to be doing a pretty good ob of keeping him wound down." John fidgeted with the feed a little more, becoming engrossed in the task. "I wonder if I can get sound on this thing?"

Jeff cleared his throat to get his son's attention back. "You made reservations already at a hotel for me and Brains?"

John sat up straight. "Yes sir. It's the hotel nearest to the hospital, St. Catherine's. I booked you the double suite since I didn't know how log this could go on. I think we must have been the first family the Headmaster called, none of the other rooms were booked by the other kids' parents yet."

Gordon snorted. "That makes sense. With Alan, he probably has Dad on speed dial."

Jeff shot him a look and Gordon quieted.

'How does he get into these situations? Doesn't he think?" Scott's filtered voice was irate.

"Hey! That's not fair Scott. He skipped off campus after curfew. Something the student body of Wharton's seems to do on a pretty regular basis. He went to a well known karaoke club to drink sodas and hang out. It's not like he was out looking for drugs to get stoned! Somebody did this to him!" John argued hotly with his oldest brother.

"I'm not saying he did it on purpose, John! If he had been at school where he belonged it wouldn't have happened is all." Scott shot back.

"That's enough boys." Their father's hard voice interrupted their verbal battle. "What's important right now is making sure Alan gets through this."

"Yes Father, sorry." John responded into the quiet that followed his father's statement.

"How's he doing, John?" Gordon asked. He was the closest to Alan in age. When the youngest was on the island they two were usually seen together more often than apart.

"I'm trying to get sound on this feed, Gordo. Give me a moment." The men waited silently, watching their flight path and attempting to push the massive thunderbird even faster.

John came back on the line chuckling. "He's regaling the counselor with tales from his misspent youth. Gordon, were you really the master planner behind the cookie raids? You just made Alan the front man?"

"Hey, he was the baby. He always managed to get more cookies out of grandma when I sent him begging instead of me."

John laughed. "Not according to Alan. He says Grandma always gave him more cookies because she knew he was going to share them with you. IT seems you received less because you didn't always share."

Virgil guffawed as Gordon answered indignantly. "I shared! I just always took the bigger share because of my efforts."

"Sure Gordon."

"He looks like he's just finished running a marathon. His color's up, he's sweating and panting. "He's talking really fast, too and jittery. The counselor is checking his pulse and blood pressure." John made another adjustment to his screen. "I think Alan is aware of what's going on, he's asking about the results. They're pretty high, Dad." He sounded worried.

"He's lucid?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, seems so."

"That's good, right?" Gordon spoke. "If he knows what's going on he can work with the doctors?"

"That's what it seems like he's doing. As best he can. Knowing what's going on won't make the drugs affects stop happening." The statement caused the men in thunderbird two to grow quiet again.

"Can we talk to him, John? Let him know I'm on the way?" Jeff was anxious.

Not through the webcam, Dad." John responded. "Maybe I can call the hospital back, see if they will let us?"

"Do it." Came the affirmative answer. John disconnected to contact the hospital once more.

Virgil watched his father try to relax his grip on the 'birds steering column. "Dad? Do you want us to go get John? I feel alright. Gordon, how about you?"

"I'm good Virge. I can handle a quick jaunt to thunderbird five." Gordon sounded please to have a plan.

Jeff looked at his second oldest son, the musician. Virgil's handsome face was pinched with worry, but not fatigue. "Are you sure, Son? I think we'll be safe until morning if you want to get some sleep first."

"I'm sure, Dad. I don't think any of us will be getting much shut eye tonight, anyway." This was accompanied by a wry smile.

Jeff returned the small smile and clapped his son on the shoulder. " FAB, Sounds good. We'll let John know when he comes back online." As if speaking had somehow willed him back, the comm. link to thunderbird five crackled and became live once again.

John's voice was strained with worry. "Dad? I have Dr. Pahwan on the line, sound only. He needs to speak with you directly. Can I patch him through?"

Jeff took a deep steadying breath. "Patch him through."

I don't really like torturing the characters. Really, I don't. It just seems that way. If you liked this first installment please let me know. I've never written a T-bird fic before and could use any critiques you may have.

There is a mention of an online consent to care form. I found a couple real life examples of something like this on the net so I assumed it was OK to use here. I will admit however that I first saw the realtime version in one of Spence's pieces. "Who's in Trouble Now.' I think it was. I hope he/she doesn't mind me borrowing it, it made the story flow a little better. Usually, I would wait for a verbal OK from the other author but this was a fuzzy area (because it's real, just not for hospital's) and I was anxious to post. I hope no one minds  If you do, please let me now and I will attempt a rewrite.


	2. Alan

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I have a story name! It was recommended to me by two of the reviewers. Thanks guys! I think I broke every grammar rule there is about tenses when I wrote this chapter. It's supposed to be from a manic viewpoint so I tried to keep the sentences short so it could be read quickly for best effect. Again, please feel free to critique. I try to fix most of the problems with grammar but I know my style leaves a lot to be desired. I can use some honest criticism to grow so please feel free.

See first chapter for disclaimer.

Alan suppressed the urge to swallow, his mouth was dry and he was thirsty. He had been talking non stop for what seemed like hours. He ran his hands up and down his shivering arms and tried to fold the top of his body in half. This was not the way he had intended to spend the night. He was both hot and cold at the same time. The lights in the small room were too bright. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. His head had started pounding back at the club and he had been almost relieved when the manager had told his group to leave. If only Kevin had kept his mouth shut and just done what he was asked. The police would never have been called and he wouldn't be in this mess.

He peered through his bangs at the woman in the room with him as she approached him again with his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. Alan obediently bared his arm and tried to still his bouncing feet. The woman took his pulse and noted it on her medi-pad before applying the cuff to his left arm. He pressed his lips together and waited for the painful squeezing sensation. He felt a sharp pain in his forehead and rubbed at it with his free hand.

"Can I have a drink? I'm really thirsty." The dark haired woman nodded and waved at the camera that was monitoring him. Alan looked at it, imagining a room full of people on the other side, all making fun of him.

He squinted his eyes in anger. "They're all laughing at me, aren't they? The stupid kid that was slipped a mickey. I bet this is just loads of fun for them."

"No one is laughing at you, Alan. This is very serious."

Alan snorted and pulled his arm away curling up into a ball on the chair. "Yeah, right."

"Alan, I've already told you what's happening. There isn't very much information about this drug and the effects so I need you to keep talking to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

There was a knock on the door and the woman went to answer it. She returned with a cup full of ice chips and handed it to him.

Alan sighed and took the cup. "Thanks." He started sucking down the chips trying to ease his dry throat. The woman returned to her seat and sat gazing him. Alan finished off the ice and set the cup on a table.

"I feel like a bug or something, the way you keep watching me." He said mildly with a small smile. This woman had heard most of the tales from his childhood over the last couple of hours. Alan figured it wouldn't hurt him to be a little friendlier to her.

The woman returned the smile and waved at the camera, indicating that she wanted more ice. "I'll bet you do. You've been talking for a while, are you really thirsty?"

"I know, I can't seem to stop. My throat hurts, the water helps." The boy answered with a nod the woman made an entry on her medi-pad.

"Well. I don't see the harm in allowing you some more ice chips. They should be here in a moment."

Alan played with his shirt sleeve and started bouncing his feet again. "You said you were a counselor. Are you a shrink?"

"I'm a therapist. I usually work with the long term care children in the hospitals oncology ward." She stretched in her seat and crossed her legs.

Alan twisted in his chair and tried to sit on his hands. "I bet that's hard."

"It can be, sometimes." Her voice had a melodic tone to it. "But the children can be remarkable, too. They go through so much. Things that would make any adult shudder and they do it fearlessly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her eyes twinkled as she watched him squirm in his chair.

"You remind me of my brother." Alan blurted out.

He tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her nose, thinking of the stories of the prankster Gordon. "How so?"

"His voice sounds like a song, too. But don't tell anyone I said that. Gordy would laugh at me. Are you a musician?"

"I minored in performance arts in school" She looked pleased at the indirect compliment. "Is Gordon a musician too? Where did he find the time? He's the one that staged the cookie raids, right?"

"No, Gordy is an aquanaut. He was in the Olympics. Virgil is the musician, only he's not really, 'cause he majored in mechanical engineering."

"So it's a hobby then. Does he sing?"

"Not often. Usually he plays his piano. He's really good. Whenever I'm home I listen to him practice. He's the only person who's ever played music that makes me laugh. You know, like a tickle?"

"I think I know what you mean." She chuckled and smoothed her hair back out of her eyes. "So Virgil is a musician and an Engineer. John is the astronaut and writer. Scott is the decorated jet pilot. You said Gordon was a what, and aquanaut? So he does something other than play pranks on the rest of your family?"

Alan's eyes lit up and became animated. His family was always a favorite subject of his. He was very proud of them. "Yup, Gordon is an aquanaut. He won a medal for swimming in the Olympics. He was in WASP, too until there was a really bad accident." His stomach seized into a knot in memory. "I almost lost him, my favorite brother." He became quiet and pensive.

"He's better now, Alan." She gently reminded him.

"Yeah, mostly." Alan firmly pushed the unhappy memories away and bounced out of his seat. "You know today started out so well to, and now look at it." He tossed his hands in the air and walked the length of the room. "I can't believe I'm sitting here, waiting for some drug to knock me out. How long do you think its going to take for me t o fall asleep? I feel wired." He stopped at the far end of the room and began to beat a staccato rhythm on a whiteboard using dry erase markers.

"Alan, I need you to sit down and try to keep still. Your pulse is already too high." The counselor pulled Alan's chair out and pointed to it.

Frowning Alan threw himself into it and started picking at the chairs plastic covered arm. "So how long?"

She consulted her medi-pad. "Four of your friends have already fallen asleep, only you and Lucas are left awake."

"They're not my friends." He started bouncing his legs, and began to worry at a loose stitch in the chairs cushion.

"No?" Her eyebrow arched. "You regularly skip school with complete strangers to hang out at a bar?"

Alan made a noise of disgust. : It's not a bar. My dad would kill me if I ever went to one of those. It was just a club. We sang karaoke, danced badly, and drank cokes. That's it, nothing nefarious about it."

"Except you weren't supposed to be there and you were with people you didn't know well." She snorted back at him. "Oh yeah, and don't forget, you're in the hospital for a drug overdose after being picked up by the police."

Alan had never been good at staying out of fights. "I knew 'em! We just aren't really friends is all. Everybody knows Lucas; he's like a campus god." He took a deep breath to continue and shuddered, grabbing at his head.

"Alan, what's wrong?" The woman immediately put her arms around him, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"M-my head hurts. I can't tell if I'm hot or cold. I just keep shaking." His arms wrapped around his body and held on tight.

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"Not really. It feels like its upset, only not, like I should be sick." The shaking subsided and Alan sat up again. The counselor reached for his hand to check his pulse.

"Is it still high?" Alan panted lightly.

She nodded as she brushed his bangs out of his eyes. There was a knock at the door and she went to answer it, speaking in low tones to the person on the other side.

Alan closed his tired eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. The motion caused a wave of nausea to sweep through him and he swallowed against the rising bile in his throat. "My head hurts." He sighed to the room.

He felt a cool dry hand on his brow. Opening his eyes he saw the doctor he had meant when he had been admitted hours before. "Dr. Pahwan."

"Mr. Tracy, how are you feeling?" He removed his hand and squatted down before the teenager.

Alan smiled gamely. "I feel like a squashed bug." The counselor laughed lightly and handed him another glass of ice chips before returning to her seat.

"Your blood pressure and pulse rate have been dangerously elevated for over 30 minutes. You may be experiencing some discomfort from that.' The doctor's countenance was stern but his eyes were caring.

"My head hurts and the lights are too bright. I feel like I should be sick, but I'm not."

"That's normal, anything else?"

"I can't seem to catch my breath and I keep shaking. I can't stop talking. I'm saying things that I would never usually talk about."

"That's because of the drug Alan. It makes you hyper. All of your twitching and sporadic movements have been because of it."

Alan nodded. "Why can't I shut up though? I never talk this much.

"That is also part of the drugs affects. It lowers your inhibitions and causes you to react in an atypical manner."

He grinned. "Is that why Clarence Biggs kept trying to take off his clothes?"

Dr. Pahwan chuckled at the evil expression on the blonde's face. "Also correct, and for the record, he only got half of his pants off before he passed out from the drug. He was nearly unconscious when he was brought in."

"The counselor told me that everyone except me and Lucas is asleep." Ke looked at the woman who nodded in confirmation.

"Ms. Leightner is correct. The other four boys had a much lower dosage of the drug than you and Mr. Velasquez."

"So they're going to be okay?"

Dr. Pahwan's face grew serious. "We don't know that, Alan. This is a very new drug and there is not a lot of information available about it. What is documented about it states that the drug has some very serious side effects."

Alan felt a shiver of fear. "Has anybody died from it?"

"I don't want you to worry about that, Alan. You are in the best place you can possibly be right now. Ms. Leightner is going to continue to monitor and sit with you and I will be checking in with you periodically as the night goes by."

The boys face was blank as he looked at the doctor before him. "You didn't answer the question." He whispered.

Dr. Pahwan leaned closer and placed his hand on the youngest Tracy's shoulder. "Alan listen to me. All the deaths that have been associated with this drug have been suicides." Alan blinked, not comprehending. The doctor moved Alan's chin so that he was staring him dead in the eyes. "Those people killed themselves, Alan. His voice was intense. "I am not going to give you the opportunity to do yourself harm. Do you hear me? It is not going to happen."

The blonde's eyes teared up and he gulped. "I don't want to die."

"Then you won't. It's that simple. Bottom line, it's your choice."

Alan felt a disbelieving laugh bubble its way out of his chest. "You sound just like my Dad." He blinked his tears away. "Though his is usually 'bottom line, you need to grow up'"

"Not a bad piece of advice, as it goes. Time usually manages to fix that problem. As it happens I have spoken to your father. He is on his way here." The doctor stood back up and gazed down at the boy.

Alan sniffed as he wiped more tears away. "You talked to my Dad? Really? E's coming here? But what if something happens? He can't be away from the island! He's going to be so mad. What if something happens while he's here? He'll never be able to get back in time to help."

Ms. Leightner crossed the room with a box of tissues and sat next to the distraught boy. "He should be here in an hour or so Alan. He said he was in the air when he called."

"But he can't!" Alan panicked and drove a tissue into his mouth. He had all but told them about the thunderbirds. He started gulping for air. The counselor started rubbing his back in soothing circles again.

"Your father is very worried about you. Don't worry about it too much. He's anxious to see you."

Alan nodded, realizing with shock that he was still crying. He couldn't seem to control his body. It was like he had been hijacked by a manic toddler on a sugar high. He jumped out of his chair and started pacing in a tight circle. He needed to calm down. He brushed aside Dr. Pahwan's concern and ran his hand over his tear streaked face.

"I'm crying! What am I crying for? I haven't cried since Gordy had his accident." Dismayed Alan tried to stop talking but found that he couldn't. "I use to hide in my bedroom at night. I could hear him tossing and turning, moaning in pain. I couldn't do anything to help him so I cried. I was so scared." And suddenly he was terrified, just like he had been when the hydrofoil accident had happened and no one could tell him if his brother was alive or not. He grimaced fighting the pain and wiped snot and tears away with his arm.

"Gordon is fine Alan. Everyone is okay." The counselor's voice was a high buzzing noise in his ears, like an out of tune satellite signal. He hugged himself tightly and allowed the doctor to seat him back in his chair. Then he started rocking, trying to calm the sudden madness in his head. His thoughts began to churn as the days events started replaying in his head.

"I shouldn't have gone. I knew I shouldn't have gone. I'm so sorry. I didn't tell Fermat bout the invitation because I knew he would talk me out of it. I wanted to go though. I wanted to have some fun. I thought everything would be okay." He looked at Dr. Pahwan with his tear streaked face.

"The worst thing that was supposed to happen was a week's detention." He sobbed and tried to bend his frame into an even smaller ball. Then he started shaking again from head to toe and he retched and he coughed as his stomach seemed to turn inside out.

Someone was shouting in the background and Alan felt a pain erupt in his head. Then the metallic tang of blood was running down the back of his throat. Alan looked in shock at his chest. Is nose was bleeding all over his t-shirt. Someone pressed a wad of tissues to his nose and pinched hard. H flinched away. He started coughing the blood out of his throat between gasps for breath.

In a cold moment between the pulsating pains in his head Alan realized that this was what the doctors had been worried about. He knew the situation was spinning rapidly out of his control and he tried to calm himself. It was hard though, so hard. He was loosing control of his body to the drug and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted his Dad, Scott, Gordy, anybody. He squeezed his eyes shut and wailed in fear. "Somebody please, make it stop."


	3. Reactions

Devastation Chapter 3. This chapter was made possible by Spense, Beta extraordinare! Thank you for your time and assistance in getting this out. I also want to thank my reviewers for your patience and for your kind words to me. Rest assured, chapter 4 won't take as long as this one to be posted, even though it is still in the graphite and pulp phase. As always, please feel free to comment and make suggestions. :)

Please see chapter one for Disclaimer.

John clutched at the corner of the table as he watched the scene in Alan's hospital room unfold on the screen. He had was rapt as the counselor sent his baby brother back to his chair and gave him some ice chips. Alan was beginning to appear more and more agitated as the conversation continued. John just couldn't tear himself away. It was moments like these that he hated being so far away.

The hospital had installed a microphone in Alan's room for him. John had assisted the hospital technician with setting up a piggyback signal so he could coax sound out of the feed. He had then boosted the signal and forwarded to his father and Brains on the Tracy jet

John was running through the gauntlet of emotions himself. Normally calm and cool in an emergency, just listening to his younger brother's conversations with the therapist was sending him over the edge. John had been a bit angry when the counselor had been berating Alan about taking responsibility for his actions. He happened to agree with her wholeheartedly but thought that it was a bit ill timed.

The second Tracy son wished that he could reach through the screen to hold the younger Tracy. He irrationally felt that everything would be okay if he could just get to Alan. This wasn't a new feeling for him. It was a sensation he was more than familiar with, and all to often. John felt that the hardest part of being stationed in thunderbird 5 wasn't that he was separated from his family; he remained in close contact with them even though they were apart. The hardest part, was needing to be by his brothers' side, to support them and to be near them when they faced down their demons and trials.

. "You still there John?" Gordon's voice came through clearly in the quiet command center.

John started and punched at a toggle on his board. "I'm here, just listening to Alan. He's not doing so well. What's your ETA?"

Virgil and Gordon were on their way to the station in Thunderbird 3. They were going to automate the station and return with John to the island. John was happy with the solution because it meant he would be nearby as an additional man in case of a rescue, and on a more personal level, he would be nearer to Alan if there were any problems.

"Actually, we're nearly ready to approach, and are preparing to dock. Can you start the procedure for us? Virgil replied to his brother with a raised eyebrow. How could John have missed the approaching Thunderbird? It wasn't exactly small.

The sheepish look on John's face caused Virgil to snort in amusement as his brother began the docking program on his console. "Prepare for docking. I have you on screen now." He said glancing at the previously ignored monitor on his left.

"We are in 3, 2 …1. Staring approach." Virgil's dry tone commented.

"Systems are green. Preparing countdown to dock." Gordon's light voice responded to his brother's queue. "Docking in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." There was a slight jolt and a distinct thud as the two ships meant evenly.

"Airlocks are clear." John verified as he unlocked the docking hatch. He checked once more to make sure that everything was green before turning back to Alan's monitor.

During the few moments he'd been running the docking sequence, a tall man had entered Alan's room and had crouched down to look at the teenager in the eye. John turned up the feed in order to hear more clearly above the noise of Virgil and Gordon making their way up from the docking ring.

…"It has been documented as having extremely serious side effects."

"Has anyone ever died from it?"…

John leaned toward the screen and held his breath. Alan's face was pinched from worry. He listened intently to the doctor's reply and Alan's choked response and watched in trepidation as the doctor leaned in and grasped Alan's shoulders. Once more John wished he wished he could be there with his little brother. He couldn't hear the doctor's words as he replied, he was speaking very low and seriously, but he heard Alan's tearful reply.

"…I don't want to die."…

The astronaut clenched his hands and whirled at the unexpected gasp from behind him. Virgil and Gordon stood there, looking shocked at the screen before them. John gave them a beseeching look and quickly turned back to the monitor as Virgil fell onto a stool beside him. He sensed Gordon gripping the back of his chair as he focused on the harrowing scene playing out in front of him.

"He's crying. Alan doesn't cry, not ever." Gordon whispered as he stared at the hospitals live feed for the first time.

"We could really lose him here, couldn't we?" Virgil's tone was stunned disbelief. John just nodded in reply and waved his hand vaguely at another monitor that held several case files on it. John had been doing research on the documented effects of the drug.

Gordon closed his eyes in pain as he listened to Alan panic about their fathers' reaction. How typical of Alan, to actually think that their father would put IR above his welfare.

Virgil grimaced and mumbled. "That's just going to kill Dad. Is he getting this?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of grim silence as the three men reflected momentarily on how desperate their father must be feeling at that moment, streaking across the sky towards their ill brother.

They watched Alan pace in circles on the screen. "He hasn't said anything about the 'birds?" Virgil asked. Gordon snorted in disgust at his brother's question.

"That was the closest he's come to it." John replied evenly, giving Gordon an admonishing look. He suddenly laughed without humor. "He was just talking about you though."

"Me?" Virgil seemed surprised. He and Alan weren't as close to one another as they were to the others.

"He said your voice was like hearing a song. You make him happy when he hears you play."

Virgil stared at his little brother's image on the screen. Alan was trying to evade the doctor. "Really."

Gordon was about to speak when Alan's next words stopped him.

…"I haven't cried since Gordy had his accident." The red head's eyes were now glued to the screen, his mouth was slightly open. Alan had never seemed to want to talk about the hydrofoil accident. The subject was nearly taboo between the two brothers. Gordon had respected Alan's desire to want to put the accident out of his mind. Truthfully, he had been glad to have one brother who didn't need to rehash the entire episode with him.

..."I use to hide in my bedroom at night. I could hear Gordy tossing and turning, moaning in pain. I couldn't do anything to help him so I cried. I was so scared…"

Gordon swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Maybe he should have made Alan talk to him. He watched his little brother try to curl in on himself as the counselor tried to reassure him. This was just wrong. This wasn't the Alan he knew. "How long has he been like this, John?"

"He's getting worse. I think he's really hurting, now. It's getting harder to listen to. His stories are becoming really painful to listen to. It's like he's reliving some of his worst memories. He's having trouble focusing. No more cookie – raid stories."

"He's being honest." Virgil commented

"He usually is." Gordon snapped with misplaced anger. Virgil looked surprised at the tone.

"I meant with himself, Gords. Calm down. I'm not trying to tear Alan down."

"No one is, Gordo."

"I know. I just –Alan!" The two other men turned back to the screen quickly. Alan was on it. He was holding his head, blood was staining the front of his shirt. The counselor was calling for assistance at the door and the doctor was holding a wad of tissues to Alan's face. Several people dashed into the room and blocked Alan from their view. However, his voice was heard clearly over the excited medical babble.

…"Somebody make it stop!"….

"Alan!" Gordon cried out as they saw their brother's limp body lowered onto the floor. The technicians were checking his vitals and someone wheeled a hospital bed into the room. There was a flurry of excitement as Alan was lifted onto it. Then the staffed chased the gurney out of the room. "What's going on? Alan!"

John dove for his headset immediately and began dialing the hospitals number.


	4. Waiting

Okay, I'm 2 days late. I lost the notebook. Sorry sorry sorry. There's a weird kind of symmetry going on between this and Imploding. I think this one is the one that's shaping them both though. They are going to be remarkably similar stories by the time they are complete and many people may feel cheated because of that. Sorry in advance. Unbeta-d these mistakes are all mine and my sidekick, the incredible dancing paperclip.

I want a T-birds daytime show w/ real actors. A sort of an amalgam between the movie and the 60's show. Something to fit in between the game shows, real life (I don't wanna' know your) dramas, and the night time soaps. Kind of like Hawaii 5-0 was a good early afternoon show. It made you happy and gave you general feeling of relative peacefulness for the rest of the day. My own version of an after school special. If I were a more artistic person I'd be doing still life shots with bad voice over's of home made episodes on you tube.

Anybody else want in? We'll have to beg stories from the cool t-bird writers, but it would be worth to see "our" guys again, right?

Standard Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Jeff Tracy was sitting in the waiting room of ST. Catherine's AICU. He and Brains had arrived in Massachusetts only a few hours ago. They had used one of the highly modified Tracy jets, cutting several hours from their trip. Jeff had asked Brains to pilot the aircraft while he monitored Alan's progress in the rear cabin. He had been forced to watch his son's condition deteriorate rapidly. Alan had gone from childishly hyperactive, talkative phase to a morose painfully sobbing caricature of himself. Alan had been so unhappy, reliving some of the hardest memories of his short life.

Waiting for his next visitation interval in the family lounge, Jeff closed his eyes as he remembered Alan's reaction to his arrival. His son had been terrified of his having to leave the island and IR to be with him. Did Alan really think that IR was more important to Jeff than he was? What had he done that had made his youngest believe such an erroneous fact? Did any of his other boys feel the same way? Maybe it was time to take a good long look at his and Alan's relationship. He didn't want any of his sons believing that they were less important to him than Tracy Industries or even International Rescue.

Sighing deeply, he tilted his head back to lean against the green and blue painted wall. A giant purple 4 was painted on the wall directly across from him, signifying the floor he was on in the building. Fourth floor the children's surgical ward, children's oncology ward and the Adolescent Intensive Care Unit; where Alan and three of his schoolmates were now. Thankfully, not all of the students were as badly off as Alan was. When the children had first been brought in the medical staff had feared the worst about the unknown drug in their systems and had admitted all the boys for observation.

One of the boys had already been released back into the school's care. The doctors had been able to rule out any indication of the drug in his system. Jeff had marveled at how very young the wide eyed boy had looked as he passed him in the hallway. Scared and confused by the events of the night; he had seemed to Jeff to resemble the look of a fae, accidentally lost in the cold world of man.

The parents of the other two boys were in the waiting room with him. Mrs. Velasquez was a small, quiet Latino woman with wide silver streaks running through her mass of dark hair. She spoke softly in a beautifully modulated accent and grasped her rosary and handkerchief tightly in her lap. She lived only a short distance from Wharton's and had been the first parent to arrive to arrive at the hospital. Jeff had exchanged a few words with her while each awaited their allotted 15 minutes an hour to visit with their son's. The other parents were a couple from Virginia State. They had driven 9 hours non stop (4 of those hours just in a 30 mile traffic bypass of DC) just to get to the hospital. Their tempers had been short from travel stress, worry, frustration and a lack of sleep. He and Brains had been just behind them when they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Jeff had waited impatiently as they had spoken to Dr. Pahwan first. Their son had received a small dose of the drug and had been behaving very irrationally. He had attempted to remove his clothing and been obnoxious to the police officers that had brought the boys in. In another situation the woman's mortification would have been comical. Indeed, the boy's father had been hard pressed to hide his snickering from his wife. Dr. Pahwan had explained to them that he wanted to wait at least 12 hours before releasing his patient and had warned them that they would have to be vigilant against mood swings and possible self destructive behavior for several months. He had then had an aide show them to their son's room and cautioned them against waking him prematurely. He believed that the longer the patient remained unconscious after receiving their initial dose of Devastation, the better their results would be when they awoke. He had then turned to Jeff and introduced himself to him and Brains. Jeff remembered the conversation they had had.

_

* * *

_

_ The doctor held his palm out to him. "I am Dr. Pahwan; are you Alan Tracy's father?"_

_ Surprised that he had been recognized as such, Jeff returned the handclasp. "Yes, I am. I was watching Alan in the plane on the way here. I saw him loose consciousness about 50 minutes ago. No one has been able to tell me how he is. They only tell me that he is still out. How is he?"_

_ "Yes, that was quite a set up your son walked the tech team through. I think they are planning to offer the service in the future, now that they know how it is done. You have a bright boy there." _

_ Jeff nodded. "Yes, he is. Alan?"_

_ "I asked the nurses not to give out anymore information than that. I wanted to speak with you in person and explain the situation." He indicated that the two men should follow him to an adjunct area. The doctor had offered both men coffee and had made a cup of tea for himself. Jeff didn't push him for answers, even though his stomach felt as if it had become a dead weight. He recognized that the doctor was trying to put his thoughts into a semblance of order, as Brains sometimes did. _

_ "Alan is very sick. He has nearly four times the maximum dosage of the drug in his system. Even now while he is at rest it continues to adversely affect his heart rate and respiration. He's a very healthy boy and that helps him against any possible occurrences of heart failure or stroke, but we are still very wary of both. "_

_ Jeff nodded. John had warned him about this._

_ "Alan's core body temperature has also dropped by three degrees and he is very dehydrated. The police mentioned that the boys had all imbibed several different caffeinated beverages. When he passed out I had him placed on an IV to help against this." The doctor paused to sip at his tea. _

_ Brains took the opportunity to ask, "W-w-what about his internal chemistry? I- I- I- I've studied what's available of the drugs after effects. It l-looks as if that will be where the m-m-majority of the damage is apparent."_

_ "You are correct, Dr. Heckenbecker. That is where the worst effects of the damage will manifest itself. From what the medical community has been able to deduce, it impedes in the production of a few vital neurotransmitters through out the brain and spinal column. When there are too many present it can induce a "high" like personality. It forces the user into a long lasting "mania" cycle. Once those transmitters pass through a persons system, and are buoyed by the effects of the "mania", the individuals are then subjective to a depressive state. Unless the users allow their systems to return to a normal balance and their systems time to recover, each subsequent depressive effects from a hit become longer and harder to recover from. We are starting to see that for long term abusers and overdose cases that it is more difficult to recover from, naturally."_

_ "They have prolonged 'low' episodes, for weeks at times, where they experience intense feelings of sadness, anger, and worthlessness. Most doctors are of these patients have been forced into treatment involving stimulants and mood stabilizers in conjunction with continuous therapy, just to bring them to some degree of normal functionality. Decision making and random stressors, like traffic, or looking for a parking place in a crowded lot can often provoke those patients into unmanageable fits: crying, screaming, temper tantrums, low self esteem, slovenliness all of that and more."_

_ Dr. Pahwan rubbed at his eyes. "That's what the users who seek have to look forward to. Most will eventually return to the drug in hopes that the highs it creates will help counteract their lows."_

_ "But prolonged use causes t-the high effect to diminish with each use e-ex-exacer makes worse the low states?" Brains asked, surprised._

_ "That's correct, but to a user achieving the brief times of happiness become the only thing the care about. For the boy's who have only the equivalent of one dose or less of the drugs in their systems; they will recover in time. They may experience 1 – 3 months of shallow mood swings and perhaps placed on a mild stabilizer for 6 – 12 months, but they should still make a nearly full recovery. That of course provides that they don't take anymore hits any time soon."_

_ "And for Alan?"_

_ "You will need to do some research on caring for a depressed teen, Mr. Tracy. I stated before that Alan has 4 times the maximum allowable dose in his body. He will have mood problems. They are likely to be permanent. There isn't a lot of documentation of the effects of this drug at all, much less in a child Alan's age. Perhaps he maybe able to grow out of it, or heal over time if you prefer that term. I don't know."_

_ "Alan has a very strong constitution. I'm sure he'll be able to fight this once he knows what to look out for." Jeff commented, hopefully. Brains and Dr. Pahwan both shook their heads at him._

_ "Alan may be able to realize a mood swing or a manic high for what it is, but he won't be able to control it. Depression isn't a mental disorder; it's a bio-chemical disorder much as a disease is. All Alan will be able to is hold on and take the ride. I've had patients describe depression to me as 'being hijacked'. It's a battle between what an aware patient "knows" and what they "feel". It has nothing to do with how strong willed a person is."_

_ "There has to be someway of stabilizing the brain chemistry. This can't be it?"_

_ Dr. Pahwan's dark eyes shone with sympathy. "Maybe someday, but not now. We can treat the symptoms, try drug cocktails until we get one that let's the patient act relatively normal, boost the system a bit to encourage the production of the proper inhibitors, but that's it. Most of this disease is treated in therapy, teaching the patients how to cope from day to day, how to live with the crippling emotional effects caused by the drugs, and lead productive lives."_

_ Jeff couldn't believe it. This couldn't be all there was for Alan. "Why?" He asked instead, not really expecting an answer._

_ "We know the physical traits that are associated with the onset of Depression and Bi-polar disorders. We do know "why" it occurs in a strictly scientific sense. We don't know why some people are affected and others are not. There was a great deal of study put into this subject at the turn of the century by the medical profession. Unfortunately, their main focus at the time was to develop new drugs "to treat" the condition. Not to cure it. It's really not too surprising since most of the research was funded by drug companies in the first place." The doctor said off handedly, grimacing as he stood to throw his cup away._

_ Jeff felt as if he had been punched. "And Alan will definitely have these problems when he wakes up?"_

_ The doctor nodded and allowed the other two men to precede him from the room. "Nearly positive, he was already showing signs before he lost consciousness. He stated that he was aware that he was reacting abnormally. Regardless, the most important part right now is to get him past the physical effects of this stimulated high without any complications. That is what we need to work on now." He led them to room 4057 and held the door open for them to enter._

Me and my chapter endings, huh? What's up with that, do you think? Lol. I'm going to go start typing the next chapter, now. Let me know what you guys think.  Thanks for reading!


End file.
